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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28153314">Assassino</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Assassino Family AU [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Assassin's Creed - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fuck Canon, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Rooftop Guard!Leonardo, Salaì is Ezio's and Leonardo's overgrown child, Sort Of, and you can't change my mind</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:20:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,550</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28153314</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The man lunged, and crashed onto the roof Leonardo was currently patrolling, his arms and legs stretched out in a clearly uncomfortable sprawl.</p><p>“Are you running late for a beautiful date, <em>amico?”</em> Leonardo queried, all of a sudden feeling a rush of… confidence?</p><p>The man attempted to release a laugh, but instead wheezed due to the fact that his chest did just smack a roof only a few seconds ago. After pushing himself onto his feet, wobbling a bit- but thankfully not toppling over the side- the man said, “You come here often, I see?”</p><p>“This is <em>my </em>roof,” Leonardo told him. “It’s to this one that I have been assigned to ever since I applied. No one is supposed to be climbing around on city property. But I like <em>you,</em> so I won’t chase you away, <em>signore.”</em></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ezio Auditore da Firenze/Leonardo da Vinci</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Assassino Family AU [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2062548</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Assassino</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Canon and history kinda get thrown out the window here. Deal with it, or don't read. Also, some of the spoken lines used in this fic are taken from the Assassin's Creed games (though alterations have been made to some of them).</p><p>Also, I have plans to expand on this version of the Assassin's Creed universe further, because I have more ideas I wanted to explore, but couldn't really do in this fic. So said ideas will be explored in later fics.</p><p>I used Google Translate for the Italian, so if there are any mistakes in that regard, please let me know.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It wasn’t that the job was <em>unpleasant</em>, per say.</p><p>Far from it. The strong possibility of falling to one’s own death aside, patrolling the rooftops of Firenze was not all that bad. The views at night were astounding, to say the least, and for the most part, the other guards of this district were friendly. Some were tad stuck-up, having been raised in families who were better off, and others just liked to be downright <em>stronzi.</em></p><p>The only problem was that it left less time for Leonardo to work on his commissions.</p><p>Granted, he was already quite slow when it came to his work. In fact, it was due to this very fact that he needed to take up another- preferably <em>temporary</em>, but probably long-term- job. At least it paid well. And whenever Leonardo caught some little brat who thought they were being sneaky and climbed up onto the roofs for a race or something of the like, he’d tell them firmly to leave immediately. And they would listen.</p><p>No need for him to draw his weapons.</p><p>Needless to say, while this in itself was a good thing, this routine had become dull and repetitive rather quickly. It was about a year after he’d taken this second job, however, that things changed. That he met <em>him.</em></p><p>It was nighttime. The moon was full, and high in the sky, washing the city in a soft, pale blue. Stars shined brightly, as did the lanterns in the streets below. It was Leonardo’s favourite kind of evening for all its beauty, all its mystery- though soon enough, this one in particular would become his top favourite for another, also beautiful and mysterious reason. It started when Leonardo had turned round to march back along the designated patrol route. He stopped dead in his tracks, watching with blue eyes widened in utter astonishment as a man in white robes with red decorations clambered up onto the rooftop. The man, who had his hood pulled low over his face, turned to look at him.</p><p>Leonardo could only stare dumbly in shock.</p><p>“Close your mouth, <em>signore,”</em> the man spoke, his voice rough and yet, not threatening. <em>“Potresti prendere le mosche.”</em></p><p>Evidently, the strange man had caught Leonardo by surprise so much that his jaw had fallen open. The <em>artista</em> closed his mouth, and his lips contorted into a frown as he tried to recall the lines he’d been told to say by the guard. Alas, it was in vain. He could not remember, and in any case, he was in no position to tell this man what to do- considering the fact that he was armed with a hammer-like weapon with a long leather-covered handle whose name Leonardo also couldn’t remember, as well as a stiletto and throwing knives. And the handle of a crossbow also peered out over the hooded man’s shoulders.</p><p>And what was Leonardo armed with? A lousy dagger and a bow he could still barely shoot with- and half the time he missed the target anyways.</p><p>In other words, should either of them show any sign of aggression towards the other, the odds that Leonardo would survive were not in his favour.</p><p><em>“Qual è il problema?” </em>the man asked, his tone now filled with a slight impatience. “Are you not going to attack me?”</p><p>Leonardo had to think of something, and quickly. He blurted in response, “I will not tell, if you won’t.” And he clamped his mouth shut, covering it with his hands. <em>Wonderful. Sì, sì, Leonardo- tell the nice Assassino-like-dressed man to not tell anyone. What a smart move. He certainly won’t kill you now.</em></p><p>The man, to Leonardo’s surprise, snorted. That snort turned into a soft chuckle, a chuckle that melted the icy pit of fear that froze the <em>artista’</em>s stomach. And for a brief moment, Leonardo saw his eyes. They were brown, almost hazel. And they held not malice, not hatred, not fear, but… <em>humour? Intrigue? </em>Perhaps <em>puzzlement?</em></p><p>“You are a funny one, signore,” the man declared, a small smile spreading across his lips. It was then that Leonardo saw the small scar running along them, just a few inches away from the centre of his lips. The man did not seem to mind, or even notice that he was looking at his lips. “I like you. And that is surprising to me, since I do not like many people.”</p><p>“So you will not kill me?” Leonardo asked.</p><p>The strange man laughed again, this time more heartily. His laugh was beautiful, more beautiful than the soft chiming of bells, or the chirps of birds in the morning. After calming himself, and steadying his voice, the man answered, “As long as you don’t try to shoot me in the back, then you have nothing to fear from me.” With that having been said, the man turned away. Leonardo watched as he treaded along the roof without a sound. And, just as swiftly and silently as he appeared, the strange man was gone.</p><p>After a long moment, Leonardo sat down on the roof, not trusting himself to not lose his balance and topple over the side from pure shock. As his heart- which moments earlier had been racing- settled back into a calm, steady rhythm, Leonardo’s shock morphed into intense fascination.</p><p>Who was this man? Where did he come from, and where was he going? And would they ever meet again?</p><p>~~~~</p><p>Not long after their first meeting- about a week, at most- the <em>artista </em>heard rumours being spread amongst his fellow guards about this individual. He was supposedly the only surviving son of a banker named Giovanni Auditore da Firenze, who was hung along with his other two his sons some years earlier. What happened to the rest of the family- Giovanni’s wife and daughter- remained a mystery, though it was also rumoured that they managed to escape with the only surviving son to parts unknown.</p><p>Leonardo- while taking this information with a grain of salt (as people tended to distort the truth the more it spread)- couldn’t help but listen in fascination, and a twinge of sadness, as his colleagues discussed this information while they ate out in the courtyard. He later learned that the man had apparently assassinated Uberto Alberti, who had been involved with the execution of Giovanni and his two sons- if this man was Giovanni’s last surviving son, then it undoubtedly had been out of a crave for vengeance. Despite his own disdain for the killing of others, Leonardo felt sorry for Giovanni’s son.</p><p>He did not know why he felt this way- he knew that like all the others, he should hate this man. After all, Uberto was not the last person this <em>assassino</em> killed. But try as he might, Leonardo couldn’t. Perhaps the man was a murderer, but that did not change the fact that he was also <em>human,</em> and that he didn’t kill just for fun. If that were the case, Leonardo would be a corpse by now.</p><p>So, halfway through the discussion, after having sucked himself into his own little world while Piero went on and on about this person the <em>assassino</em> killed and all that, Leonardo blurted out of nowhere, “What is his name?”</p><p>Piero, who damn near jumped right off the table (as he had been sitting on it this whole time), glared at him in annoyance for the abrupt interruption. <em>“Che cosa?”</em> he asked, his voice dripping with slight venom. The rest of the group at the table aside from Leonardo- which was made up of about six guards- tensed.</p><p>“Giovanni’s son? The one who survived?” Leonardo went on. “What is his name?”</p><p>“Ezio Auditore da Firenze,” Piero spat, droplets of his saliva landing on Leonardo’s face. The <em>artista</em> scooted back in his chair, wiping his face with his sleeve as Piero continued, “Any other questions, Maestro da Vinci, or may I continue?”</p><p><em>“Mie scuse,” </em>Leonardo muttered softly in response, looking at the wall behind Piero. “You may continue.”</p><p>Later that same day, after lunch was over with and everyone had returned to their usual posts, Leonardo saw <em>him</em> again. The same strange man in the ivory-coloured robes from that one night. The <em>assassino…</em></p><p>He was just as much of an enticing sight today as he was that one night.</p><p>The only difference this time was that the man was running as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop. Why he was running, Leonardo hadn’t the faintest- no one was chasing him, as far as he could tell. Perhaps he was in pursuit of something… or someone?</p><p>The man lunged, and crashed onto the roof Leonardo was currently patrolling, his arms and legs stretched out in a clearly uncomfortable sprawl.</p><p>“Are you running late for a beautiful date, <em>amico?”</em> Leonardo queried, all of a sudden feeling a rush of… confidence?</p><p>The man attempted to release a laugh, but instead wheezed due to the fact that his chest did just smack a roof only a few seconds ago. After pushing himself onto his feet, wobbling a bit- but thankfully not toppling over the side- the man said, “You come here often, I see?”</p><p>“This is <em>my</em> roof,” Leonardo told him. “It’s to this one that I have been assigned to ever since I applied. No one is supposed to be climbing around on city property. But I like <em>you,</em> so I won’t chase you away, <em>signore.”</em></p><p>The man snorted, walking over to the wooden boardwalk and plopping his ass down on it. Leonardo settled down beside him, fiddling with his gloves a bit.</p><p>“So did you run halfway across Firenze just to see <em>me?”</em> Leonardo teased, nudging the other man’s shoulder with his own. As their shoulders brushed, the <em>artista</em> almost gasped at the warmth radiating from the other man’s body. </p><p>“Actually, I was pursuing a pigeon that apparently decided it would be a fun game for me to chase it after it escaped from its coop,” the man answered, stiffening slightly at the touch, but otherwise not moving.</p><p>“You keep a pigeon coop?”</p><p>The man snorted again. “<em>Sì,</em> I do- so to speak.”</p><p>A moment of silence passed between the two men as they sat there, listening to the birds chirping and cooing, the <em>whooshing</em> of the cool breeze, and the noises of people bustling about their business in the city below.</p><p>“I take it you have yet to find your pigeon?” Leonardo asked.</p><p>The other man hummed. “When I do find it, we will be having words, that pigeon and I.”</p><p>Leonardo snorted in amusement, the bizarre and yet… almost <em>endearing</em> image of a full-grown <em>assassino</em> disciplining a pigeon like he would a child clear in his head. After another pause filled with silence, Leonardo reached for his small travelling bag, which he had stashed against the rail lining the boardwalk. He sensed the man sitting beside him stiffen, and so the <em>artista</em> said, “It is only my sketchbook and charcoal, see?” He set the bag right on the man’s lap so he could inspect for himself.</p><p>Nodding in approval after having looked through it, the strange man queried, “So you are an <em>artista?”</em></p><p>“<em>Sì,”</em> Leonardo answered, removing his bag from the man’s lap before retrieving his sketchbook and a piece of charcoal. “I am also an inventor, so to speak. I’m not content to merely capture the world. I want to change it. For the better.”</p><p>The other man hummed again, watching like a hawk as Leonardo shifted himself so he was facing him. “What are you doing now?”</p><p>“I feel compelled to draw you,” Leonardo told him. “Not for one of those wanted posters they hang about the city- and by the way, that <em>scusa patetica per un artista</em> cannot even draw your <em>hood</em> right- but, ahh, back to what I was saying before, it is not for the city, but for myself.”</p><p>“I do not understand,” the man said blandly.</p><p>“I…” Leonardo bit his lip, hesitating. “I find you quite… <em>fascinating?</em> It’s, ahh… it’s difficult to explain. If you do not want me to draw you… then tell me, and I won’t.”</p><p>“I do not mind,” the man answered slowly. “If anything, the feeling is mutual.” A short pause. “About the fascination, I mean. As to art, I could not draw even a stick-man to save my life.”</p><p>“I will not tell, if you won’t,” Leonardo murmured. A smile spread across his lips as the other man laughed in response.</p><p>Oh, what he would do to hear that laughter all day if he could.</p><p>~~~~</p><p>“You know what I am?” the man asked suddenly, when he dropped by a third time several days later. There was a forced steadiness to his voice, as if he was filled with uncertainty- and perhaps fear- but did not want to show it.</p><p>“<em>Sì,”</em> Leonardo answered, not moving from where he sat on the boardwalk, carefully shading the sketch he’d been working on. “I have recently become aware of your past activities.”</p><p>The other man, after a long moment, sat down on the boardwalk beside the artist, his gaze locked onto the charcoal smeared hand that seemed to fly across the page at its own whim as it filled in the blanks. “And yet you <em>still</em> do not attack me. You do not treat me as a <em>monster.</em> Not like… not like how the others do. The others chase me as soon as they see me- as soon as I am close enough for them to realise…” As the man spoke, Leonardo looked at him. And then, the man’s gaze met his. “I put my trust in another once before. And it cost me so <em>much</em>. They- they- I<em> saw-</em> and I <em>heard-”</em> His voice trembled now, and he clenched his hands tightly. “I- I will <em>not</em> make the same mistake again. <em>Never </em>again. It does not matter if you treat me <em>different-”</em></p><p>“Ezio-” Leonardo’s words were cut short as the man grabbed him by the throat. Within seconds, his body was on top of the <em>artista’</em>s, and a blade protruding from the man’s leather bracer was pressing lightly against Leonardo’s neck. No enough to draw blood, but certainly enough to dissuade him from speaking further. The metal was cool, harsh- much like the look in the hooded man’s eyes.</p><p><em>“Sta 'zitto,” </em>the man growled. <em>“Chiudi quella cazzo di bocca! </em>I will not tell you <em>anything- </em>not a thing- <em>non una fottuta cosa-” </em>His voice cracked and shattered into a sob. His head fell forward onto Leonardo’s chest, and his blade fell away from the <em>artisa’</em>s neck. His face was buried in the folds of Leonardo’s uniform, which muffled the soft, intermittent sobs that wracked the <em>assassino</em>’s body. After a couple of seconds, Leonardo carefully wrapped his arms around the other man’s shoulders. He could practically feel the waves of bottled-up pain and grief rolling off the man’s body, finally tearing free from his soul as if it had been trapped there for years.</p><p>Perhaps it had.</p><p><em>“Va bene piangere,”</em> Leonardo murmured gently, stroking the man’s shoulder with his thumb. “Just let it out- let it all out.”</p><p>“Hurts,” the man muttered, his voice trembling, catching in his throat. “Everything <em>hurts,</em> everything, <em>non capisco- tutto fa male-</em> why must it hurt??”</p><p>Leonardo did not answer. </p><p>~~~~</p><p>A week went by. Then two. And then three. And then a whole month.</p><p>And there was still no sign of the mysterious <em>assassino.</em> Oh sure, Leonardo caught many a word about his activities. But as to meeting with him in person again? After the first two weeks, Leonardo had given up hope of seeing him ever again. So when he returned to his workshop after having visited the market that day (he had been let off work early, so he had taken the opportunity to purchase some much-needed things), arms weighed down with a large crateful of art supplies, he was astonished to find the man sprawled across the wooden floor in front of an open cabinet, clearly unconscious. After a moment of staring in utter shock, Leonardo set the crate down on the floor and rushed over to the man’s unmoving form, and then grabbed his wrist. The <em>artista</em> carefully placed two fingers between the bone and the tendon. A rhythmic pulse greeted him, and Leonardo sighed with relief.</p><p>Leonardo then set down the man’s wrist and, after sliding his hands under his body, pushed him over onto his back. A clearly fresh and still-bleeding stab wound in his abdomen greeted his eyes. <em>“Merda-</em> you are lucky to still be alive. And you’re lucky to have stumbled into my workshop in the first place.”</p><p>He received no verbal response, or any indication really that he’d heard him. Not that Leonardo was expecting any, since the man was still unconscious.</p><p>“I will take care of this,” Leonardo went on nonetheless. “If I can just get you onto a table…”</p><p>~~~~</p><p>Leonardo, who’d made himself comfortable in a chair to the point of falling asleep after having patched up the <em>assassino,</em> was roused by the sounds of clinking metal and the rustling of cloth. Upon opening his eyes, he saw that the man was apparently putting on his armour and retrieving his weapons. “What are you doing?” Leonardo demanded at once, pushing himself out of the chair and onto his feet.</p><p>The man tilted his head, glaring at the <em>artista</em> from underneath his hood. “I am leaving, obviously.”</p><p>“You should not be moving,” Leonardo scolded, crossing his arms and glaring right back at him. “You could reopen your wounds, and if you pass out in the middle of the streets of Firenze, it is unlikely there will be anyone to help you then.”</p><p>The other man snorted, but out of annoyance rather than amusement this time. Turning round slowly, he seemed to be taking in the room, studying it, <em>scrutinising </em>it. “Is this your home?” the man queried.</p><p>Leonardo, visibly startled by the question, shook his head. “No, this is my <em>workshop.</em> My home is across the street. Why do you ask?”</p><p>“I am merely curious.” A pause. “If this is how ‘tidy’ you keep your workshop, I would hate to see the state of your house.”</p><p>“I don’t even stay in my home all that much. I find it easier to pass out on one of my worktables.” Leonardo watched as the <em>assassino</em> slid the last of his throwing knives into the sheath of his belt. “So you are leaving anyway, regardless of my warning to you?”</p><p>“I… have work that must be done, and I cannot do it if I just <em>sit</em> here,” the other man answered. Another pause. “<em>Grazie</em>, for helping me.” Their gazes met as he went on, “I will return later with some florins to compensate-”</p><p>“I don’t want or need your money,” Leonardo interrupted, instantly waving his offer away. “Your gratitude is enough. My only request is that you try not to reopen that wound of yours, <em>signore</em>. As I said, if you were to pass out on the street, it is unlikely that anyone with medical knowledge will come to your aid.”</p><p>“Ezio.”</p><p>“Hmm? I beg your pardon?”</p><p>“My name. My name is Ezio.”</p><p>“Ezio,” Leonardo repeated, nodding slowly. “And my name is Leonardo.” He lifted his hand, holding it out to Ezio to shake. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ezio.”</p><p><em>“Allo stesso modo,”</em> Ezio replied, taking the <em>artista’</em>s hand and shaking it briefly. <em>“Allo stesso modo.”</em></p><p>~~~~</p><p>Leonardo did not expect Ezio to be tossing an ancient scroll on his worktable exactly three days later, nor did he expect the <em>assassino</em> to clamber in through his open window in the first place.</p><p>“What is this?” Leonardo asked, pointing at the scroll with the piece of charcoal he currently had perched between his fingers.</p><p>“It belonged to my father,” Ezio answered. “No one I have met so far has been able to decipher it. I was hoping that perhaps you could?”</p><p>“<em>Sì, sì!</em> I will give it a try.” Leonardo dropped the piece of charcoal, which rolled a little ways across the table before bumping into one of the many sheets of paper he had sprawling across the wooden surface. Ignoring it, he instead picked up the scroll, being gentle with his fingers so as to avoid damaging the fragile parchment. He unrolled it, studying the letters scrawled across the page. “Hmmm… ahh, I see! If I am right, this codex contains a design for some kind of weapon. I will have to decrypt it to be absolutely certain. Go make yourself comfortable- this may take awhile to do.”</p><p>The creaking of a stool told Leonardo that Ezio had sat down, so the <em>artista</em> kept his gaze locked on the ancient parchment as he fumbled around with one hand for a blank sheet of paper. After finding one, as well as retrieving his piece of charcoal, he set to work. Mumbling to himself as he scrutinised the writings in the scroll, he started scribbling on the sheet of paper next to it. “Fascinating… very fascinating. I wonder how <em>old</em> this codex is… you say it belonged to your father?”</p><p>“<em>Sì,”</em> Ezio replied.</p><p>“Was it a family heirloom, perhaps? This scroll seems <em>ancient,</em> and it’s written in Arabic,” Leonardo explained.</p><p>“I have no idea. I suppose it’s very possible.”</p><p>Leonardo merely hummed in response.</p><p>About three hours passed and gone, all filled with writing and scribbling out words and then rewriting, with incoherent mutterings laced with the occasional expletive when the <em>artista</em> hit a dead end.</p><p><em>“Capito!”</em> Leonardo exclaimed, practically<em> jumping</em> to his feet, boots banging against the floor. Ezio jerked, almost falling off of the stool. Evidently, Leonardo must have caught him by surprise. The <em>assassino</em> almost instantly regained his composure and pushed himself onto his feet.</p><p>“You were able to decrypt it?” Ezio queried.</p><p>“<em>Sì, </em>s<em>ì!</em> It was mere child’s play!” Leonardo answered, ignoring the skeptical look Ezio was giving him. “It is a modified design for a weapon called the <em>hidden blade</em>. The person who drew up these designs, Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, apparently altered the design of the blade so as to not require the sacrifice of the ring finger.”</p><p>“Oh. But I already have a hidden blade- see?” Ezio pulled back his sleeve for reference, to reveal the leather bracer underneath the cloth. “And the design already no longer requires the removal of the ring finger.” He then tilted his hand so that Leonardo could see. Squinting, the <em>artista</em> could just barely make out what appeared to be a brand mark on the <em>assassino’</em>s ring finger.</p><p>“Mmm, perhaps, but if I decrypted this codex correctly, Altaïr has apparently written more than one of these codices,” Leonardo explained, handing the scroll back to Ezio. “If you can find any more, bring them to me, and I can try to decipher them for you.”</p><p>Ezio nodded. “I will. <em>Grazie</em>, for decrypting this one for me.”</p><p><em>“Prego,”</em> Leonardo replied, watching as Ezio strode across the room towards the still-open window. “Also, you do realise you are welcome to use the front door, <em>corretto?”</em></p><p>“I <em>prefer </em>the windows.” And with that, the <em>assassino</em> swung himself through the window, and raced off to who knows where.</p><p>Leonardo couldn’t help but smile in amusement.</p><p>~~~~</p><p>“Why do you write backwards?”</p><p>Ezio was practically hovering over Leonardo’s shoulder as they sat side by side on the rooftop’s boardwalk, all while the <em>artista</em> scribbled away in his notebook, which sat in the middle of his lap. Trying to hold an open scroll in one hand and a pen in the other was rather… difficult to say the least.</p><p>“Because it is easier on my hand,” Leonardo answered. “Now, let me concentrate- this particular cipher is extremely difficult, and I need to focus if I am to…” he crossed out a line of letters he wrote and then starting rewriting them on the line below. “Hmm… aha! <em>Successo!</em> I have it now!” The scribbling of letters hastened as Leonardo wrote down the thoughts racing through his mind. Once he was finished, he set down the pen and the codex. “It seems that this codex contains a design for hollowed out version of the hidden blade- the hollowed-out part of the blade would be able to hold a small amount of poison. However, it seems that this design comes at a price. The hollowed-out blades tend to be much more brittle. I will have to <em>alter</em> this design to in order to allow the blade to keep its structural integrity and still allow for the same amount of poison to be carried…”</p><p>Leonardo’s words dissolved into incoherent mutterings. Ezio remained quiet. Leonardo could still tell that the man was studying his work over his shoulder, if the warm puffs of breath brushing the <em>artista’</em>s neck were anything to go by.</p><p>Despite the need to focus on the task at hand, Leonardo couldn’t help but be distracted by how close to him Ezio was sitting. Must he sit that close? What was he hoping to <em>accomplish</em> with this course of action? Was he <em>trying </em>to be a distraction on <em>purpose?</em></p><p>“Have you been getting enough sleep?” Leonardo stiffened slightly as he felt Ezio’s fingers brush the side of his jaw, tilting his face so their eyes met. The <em>assassino’</em>s fingers were so warm, and while the callouses of his fingertips were rough, they were gentle. “It doesn’t look like you have.” Which was true- Leonardo hadn’t been getting much sleep these past couple of days. After all, it wasn’t as if his commissions were going to do themselves (much as he would like them to). The loss of a few hours of sleep was a small sacrifice to pay in comparison.</p><p>“I am <em>fine,</em> Ezio,” Leonardo told him. He knew he should be pulling away now, but he couldn’t help but lean a bit further into Ezio’s touch. “Really.” He felt Ezio’s fingers slide up his cheekbone, resting there for a moment before slipping down to his chin. And then just like that, the soft, feathery touch of his fingers was gone. “Ezio?”</p><p><em>“Mi dispiace</em>, Leonardo,” Ezio murmured, shuffling a bit so he was no longer facing the <em>artista</em>. “I seem to have gotten… carried away.”</p><p>Leonardo reached for his travel bag and slid the codex, his notebook, and pen inside. After clipping the bag shut and carefully setting it aside, he finally replied in a voice only slightly higher than a whisper, “It was not as if it was unwelcome.”</p><p>Leonardo turned his head, and saw the wide-eyed look spread across Ezio’s features. His heart beginning to pound with anxiety, Leonardo started to wonder if he’d said something wrong. If he’d crossed a line. As it turned out, he did cross a line, but not the one he had in mind- as he quickly came to find out when Ezio’s fingers tangled in the <em>artista’</em>s uniform, roughly pulling him forward. Their lips met in a painful kiss (painful because of how hard Ezio had pulled him), but nonetheless, it was wonderful.</p><p>Leonardo’s hands found their place on Ezio’s shoulders, resting there as the two of them relaxed into the kiss. While they did nothing more than the meeting of the lips, and didn’t venture into the exploration of each other’s mouths, this did nothing to dilute the meaning of the kiss for either of them. Both seemed perfectly content to do nothing else. Nevertheless, eventually they did have to pull apart in order to breathe.</p><p>Ezio stared at Leonardo as the two of them gulped down precious air. Finally, once their breathing had steadied somewhat, the <em>assassino</em> told Leonardo firmly, “When the sun sets tonight, you are going right to bed, <em>tu mi capisci?</em> And in your own home- I do not trust you to actually sleep in your workshop.”</p><p>“Ezio-”</p><p>“I will not hear another word, <em>caro mio,”</em> Ezio interrupted, his voice unwavering. “Either you will go to bed willingly, or I will have to knock you out and carry you there myself.”</p><p>Leonardo let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a <em>hmph.</em> “Good luck <em>finding </em>my bed.”</p><p>“… do not tell me it is buried under a mound of paintings and the like.”</p><p>“Very well- I will not.”</p><p>~~~~</p><p>Many years had passed since that particular day. And many times during those years, Ezio dropped by Leonardo’s house or his workshop to bring more codices for him to decipher, and pick up the ones the <em>artista</em> was able to decipher (along with any modified designs he’d drawn up during that time), and, sometimes, just to visit. No matter what the reasons for Ezio’s stopping by, he would almost always stay the night, and be gone by the time Leonardo awoke.</p><p>As Leonardo now sat on the stone bench by Ezio’s side, atop the small hill overlooking the ruins surrounding the outskirts of Roma, he couldn’t help but mull silently over the many events that had brought them to this point. Leonardo had quit the Firenze guard after having received a commission from a Venetian noble, who’d offered to give him transport to Venezia. Ezio had gone with him, concerned for the <em>artista’</em>s safety- and with good reason too, since on their way there, their wagon was attacked by soldiers sent by Rodrigo Borgia.</p><p>Naturally, Leonardo had briefly wondered at that point if he’d been better off refusing the commission and staying in Firenze.</p><p>As the years continued to pass, Leonardo learned more of exactly what Ezio was doing. What war he was fighting. Any other person would have brushed it all off as pure insanity, this long-fought secret war between the Assassins and the Templars. But Leonardo was more open-minded than most people, and he had suspected for a long time that there was something more going on. Something more than what met the eye.</p><p>The first time Leonardo had become more directly involved in this secret war was when Ezio needed to get inside the <em>Palazzo Ducale di Venezia</em>. That was also the day that Leonardo first wondered which of them was truly crazy- himself, or Ezio.</p><p>
  <em>“Have you tried it?” Ezio asked, his gaze locked on the flying machine. Leonardo could see the faint sliver of hope in his eyes- it was clear the man needed it for something, but… the machine had not yet been tested. There was no escaping that fact. It was not as if Leonardo had any volunteers.</em>
</p><p><em>“No.” Ezio turned his gaze to meet Leonardo’s as the </em>artista<em> added, “It’s too dangerous. To test it, you’d have to </em>leap<em> off a </em>tower!<em> Who would be mad enough to do a thing like </em>that?!”</p><p>The answer, as it turned out, was Ezio.</p><p><em>“Leonardo… I think you have just found your madman,” Ezio answered as Leonardo started to walk away, the commission he was still procrastinating over nagging him in the back of his mind. It fizzled away as he finally comprehended the words leaving his </em>amore<em>’s lips. Leonardo whirled around, his eyes wide with horror at the implication. Panic seized his heart, forcing its beat to hasten as his breaths became short and his hands became clammy with sweat. Ezio’s teasing smirk instantly fell away. “Leonardo- are you alright?”</em></p><p><em>“Ezio-” How does one put these kinds of feelings into words? How does one describe the absolute, sheer terror of the heart- the terror of losing someone you love? “Ezio, no. No. It’s too risky- you could be killed- if something goes wrong-” His voice caught in his throat. Leonardo reached for Ezio’s hands, sliding his fingers between those of the </em>assassino’<em>s. “It’s not worth it, Ezio.”</em></p><p>
  <em>“Leonardo, please,” Ezio murmured. “This is very important.”</em>
</p><p><em>“Then explain it to me,” Leonardo retorted, his voice low. “I cannot and will not let you test my machine unless I know why you would even </em>consider<em> doing so.”</em></p><p>Ezio’s reasoning made him no less of a madman. But Leonardo found that he could not refuse him, and <em>eventually </em>relented.</p><p>Despite the fact that Ezio’s madness often resulted in him putting himself in danger, Leonardo loved him no less for it. In fact, it was one of the many things he loved about the man.</p><p>Once, Ezio was even insane enough to go on a one-man rescue mission to save him.</p><p>
  <em>“STOP!”</em>
</p><p><em>Ezio leapt out of the shadows, a primal rage clearly burning in his eyes as he glared at the Hermeticists who had captured Leonardo and had beaten him to the point where he could not even stand. As Ezio’s eyes met that of his </em>amore’<em>s, Leonardo could see the horror spreading across his features. There was a big black bruise blossoming around Leonardo’s right eye, and there were multiple gashes as well as other bruises all across his face. He was in pain, for sure, but he would survive.</em></p><p>
  <em>Regardless of this obvious fact, it seemed that Leonardo’s current state served only to fuel Ezio’s rage.</em>
</p><p><em>“Ezio Auditore!” Ercole Massimo exclaimed as he turned to face the </em>assassino <em>in question. “You who arrested Cesare Borgia, who stopped the spread of- </em>garrawk!” <em>A small, simple knife found itself lodged in the man’s throat. The room then erupted into utter chaos. </em></p><p>
  <em>Everything seemed to blur as Leonardo watched Ezio cut them all down without hesitation or mercy, their blood splattering across his robes as he swung his sword.</em>
</p><p><em>He was not sure when it ended- he only knew that it had when he felt Ezio’s fingers fumbling with the ropes around the </em>artista’<em>s wrists. The ropes loosened, and before Leonardo could protest, Ezio was already scooping him up into his arms. “You are hurt,” Ezio murmured, taking in every inch of Leonardo’s bloodied face. “We must leave this place-”</em></p><p><em>“No- we cannot, Ezio,” Leonardo interrupted, his voice dry and rough from dehydration. “Not- not without reaching the final room of the temple. If that number is left intact, we risk </em>another<em> madman discovering it.”</em></p><p><em>“At least let me clean your wounds before we proceed, </em>caro mio,”<em> Ezio insisted, kneeling down and carefully setting the injured </em>artista<em> on the dusty temple floor. “Please.”</em></p><p>
  <em>“Very well,” Leonardo relented, lifting a hand to cup Ezio’s bearded cheek. “I suppose I can wait a few minutes longer.”</em>
</p><p>“Leonardo?”</p><p>Ezio’s voice cut through the <em>artista’</em>s thoughts, interrupting them. “Hmm?” Leonardo tilted his head to meet the gaze of his <em>amore.</em> The look in his eyes seemed almost… troubled. “What is the matter, Ezio?”</p><p>The <em>assassino</em> turned his head away, clearly contemplating on what to say.</p><p>“I… I am considering leaving the Brotherhood.” Ezio slid his hand across the bench and wrapped his fingers around Leonardo’s hand, gripping firmly, but gently, as always. “I have been for some time now. I have followed the path set before me as best I could, not knowing where it would lead, but drawn forward like a moth to a distant moon. Seven years ago, I discovered a strange truth. That I was only a conduit, for a message that eluded my understanding. And it is <em>now</em> that I discover yet another truth.</p><p>“My story is one of many thousands, and the world will not suffer if it ends too soon. There are other Assassins, those who will continue to do what is necessary to protect the world, and the freedom of those who live within it.” Ezio paused, chewing on his lower lip thoughtfully. “Ever since my father and my brothers were killed, I have dedicated my existence preserving the lives and freedom of others- and in turn, I have sacrificed my own life, and my own freedom.”</p><p>He finally turned his head to meet Leonardo’s eyes once more. “As I said before, there are others who will continue to do what needs to be done. And… I want to <em>live,</em> Leonardo. I want to <em>live</em> again, to be <em>free</em> again, while I still have time. And I want to do it with <em>you</em>.<em>”</em></p><p>“Ezio…” Leonardo shuffled closer to Ezio, letting his forehead fall and rest against that of the other man’s. “Ezio.”</p><p>“Hmmm, at a loss for words, are we?” Ezio murmured, the seriousness leaving his voice and playfulness taking its place.</p><p>“Something like that,” Leonardo answered, smiling and closing his eyes- just simply enjoying this moment he and his <em>amore</em> were sharing. “So does this mean that we will finally be…?”</p><p>“<em>Sì.</em> You’d better tell Salaì that he will be having two fathers now,” Ezio added, “and that he’d better get his <em>culo </em>in gear by the time I move in.”</p><p>Leonardo snorted in amusement. “I doubt he would listen, even to you.”</p><p>“My overgrown child, my rules.”</p><p>This line earned the <em>assassino</em> a gentle, playful smack of the hand on his armoured-shoulder pad. <em>“Ezio…”</em></p><p>Ezio only laughed.</p><p>~~~~</p><p>“Ezio, <em>fottuto idiota</em>, what were you thinking?!”</p><p>Ezio let out a soft hiss of pain as Leonardo’s fingers lightly brushed the massive bruise forming on the man’s back. “I wanted to fix the roof. So I fixed it- it’s not my fault that window frame couldn’t hold my weight on my way back down.”</p><p>The <em>artista</em> continued to mutter curses under his breath as he pulled Ezio’s shirt back down, covering the bruise. “Well, I can safely say that you will live. You are lucky that it was a short fall. You may still be strong, Ezio, but you are not invincible.”</p><p>“I fell <em>five</em> feet,” Ezio retorted blandly. <em>“Five</em> feet.”</p><p>“Onto a damn <em>rock</em>, no less,” Leonardo shot back as he strode around the stool- which was currently stationed in the sitting room- he’d made Ezio sit on. Once he was in front of the man, the <em>artista</em> leaned down and, cupping Ezio’s cheeks and tilting his face upwards, gently pressed their lips together.</p><p>The kiss lasted about thirty seconds, as Ezio pulled away and repeated in a playful tone this time, “It was only five feet, Leo.”</p><p>“And onto a <em>rock.”</em> Before Ezio could argue further, Leonardo leaned in again. It was that moment that Salaì walked into the room with an armful of groceries from the market.</p><p>The younger man groaned upon seeing his self-proclaimed fathers kissing.</p><p>“Don’t you <em>ever</em> get tired of that?”</p><p>Ezio pulled back again, tilting his head to give Salaì a glare- though it was lacking in any real anger. “Don’t you ever get tired of <em>asking</em> that? You have been living with the two of us for almost six years now- what do you <em>expect??”</em></p><p>Much like a teenager (even though he was a fully grown man by this point), Salaì just rolled his eyes and proceeded towards the next room, no doubt to put the groceries away. Leonardo shook his head, laughing and using his hands to turn Ezio’s head back round to meet his warm gaze. “You are so <em>mean</em> to him,<em> amore mio,”</em> Leonardo told him.</p><p>Ezio snorted. “And you still <em>spoil</em> him- just yesterday you bought him ten different overcoats, twelve hoses, <em>and</em> seven berets.”</p><p>“I refuse to dignify those claims with a response,” Leonardo retorted. In spite of himself, the corners of his lips were quirked upwards in the shared amusement.</p><p>“And do <em>not</em> get me started on the <em>shoes-”</em></p><p>Leonardo decided it was best to just shut Ezio up with another kiss.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>~ Fin ~</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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